


The Hollow Mile

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.This is not his father's New York.
Relationships: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor





	The Hollow Mile

_Change came slowly, passing almost without notice unless he stopped long enough to watch for it. Then it was apparent, blindingly so, and in those moments he realized: everything had changed._  
  
~*~  
  
The sight of weary faces told him where he was. He could have calculated it, and he was fairly certain the conductor had announced the station only moments before. He hadn't been paying attention, though; lost in thought, watching the blur of passing landscape until the train came to a shuddering stop, colours resolving into people, buildings and other signs of civilization.  
  
Trenton. A working class town. Filled with farmers and pioneers, people rebuilding a life some might say wasn't worth reclaiming. People so unlike him that he couldn't even begin to fathom how they survived. How they faced the days, knowing the next would hold no change, no escape.  
  
Martin stared past the faces, taking in the rough planked wooden station, its sign hanging crooked on rusted hinges. A momentary delay. He'd be in New York soon enough.  
  
Once, shortly after his eleventh birthday, he'd accompanied his father to New York on one his father's many business trips. It had been his first trip to what his father still referred to as the world's greatest city. They'd flown, suspended miles above the earth's surface in something people once referred to as an airplane. He imagined they still did, but outside of museums the topic rarely came up. Too many, he supposed, preferred to forget.  
  
It had been the first and only such trip he'd been permitted to take. At the time, though, he'd beamed with pride, the event seeming to mark his coming of age. His father trusted him. His father desired his company. His father finally recognized him, not as a boy, but rather, as the man he was well on his way to becoming.  
  
Later, of course, he'd learnt that the purpose of the trip had not been bonding, but rather grooming, necessary training so that he could one day follow in his father's footsteps. Take over the family business, such that it was.  
  
Martin still chuckled at the thought.  
  
The scent of manure, made sickly black by the train's coal smoke, wafted in the door as they began ushering on new passengers. Few of those currently onboard got off, people pressing into every available space so that by the time they lurched forward again, the train was crowded almost to capacity. The free seat next to Martin was claimed by an elderly woman, one who reminded him entirely too much of his grandmother --his father's mother, the one who had scolded him on many occasions for sneaking candied pears into his bed at night. An unpleasant woman and Martin shifted closer to the open window on his right.  
  
Slowly, faces became colours again, the town streaming past the window, becoming a motionless blur as they passed over a bridge, winding north and east toward their final destination.  
  
Beside him, the elderly woman had pulled knitting out of her bag, the soft click-click of her needles invading the silence that had accompanied Martin during the first lag of his journey. They were a mild annoyance, though, something he could easily dismiss and Martin distracted himself from the sound by mentally running over his instructions.  
  
They were simple, really. He was to meet a man named Taylor, one of the Republic's finest intelligence officers, and take over an investigation that, until now, had been handled largely by local authorities. Simple. So simple that Martin was certain the entire thing would end in disaster.  
  
He did his best to push aside the thought, focusing instead on the signs of civilization that had begun to spring up outside the window, the weather worn warehouses that circled New York visible on the horizon. Twenty minutes, Martin estimated, and set his watch.  
  
~*~  
  
Worn leather travel bag clutched tightly in his hand, Martin scanned the platform for signs of recognition. Not that he knew this Taylor personally, but certainly someone would stand out. Someone searching. Someone who knew the meaning behind his tailored grey overcoat. Someone who recognized the three small disk-shaped pins attached to his collar.  
  
"Fitzgerald?" someone said behind him, the voice younger than Martin had expected and Martin slowly turned, not wanting to admit he'd been caught off guard.  
  
"Taylor, I presume?" he asked, admiring the man examining him quizzically.  
  
He was a good looking man, someone Martin might have asked to dance were this one of the grand balls and he not on the clock.  
  
Taylor responded by pulling out identification papers, handing them over wordlessly and, good, he'd obviously been instructed on what to expect.  
  
"You can call me Danny," Taylor… Danny said as Martin scanned and handed back the crumpled pages, taking particular note to examine the slightly raised seal in the left hand corner. The papers were legitimate.  
  
"Danny," Martin echoed, the name sounding entirely too intimate on his tongue.  
  
It was rare to refer to a colleague by their first name, policy and procedure forbidding fraternization. Still, he supposed things were different in New York, less formal, perhaps.  
  
"This is where you tell me I can call you, what is it? Martin?" Danny questioned, gesturing one handed for Martin to follow him out of the station while he pocked his papers with the other.  
  
"Fitzgerald will be fine," Martin answered, falling into step at Danny's side, the very idea of Taylor using his first name appalling. They were hardly friends. Certainly not lovers.  
  
"Right," Danny answered with an amused grin.  
  
He led Martin out onto the street, toward a sturdily built black lacquered carriage that sat so that it occupied most of the road. The city's emblem was painted on the side, glittering gold shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Martin climbed inside at Danny's gesture, blinking at the sudden loss of light before perching on the edge of a long wooden bench that spanned the width of the carriage.  
  
And so it began, Martin found himself thinking, a frown settling onto his features as he once again found himself running over all the things that could go wrong.  
  
~*~  
  
Martin's stomach still lurched from the roughness of the ride over. While he considered himself an excellent horseman, there was a distinct difference between riding a horse and riding in the back of a coach pulled by horses. Less control, for one thing. The inability to avoid every pothole and rock from the station to the central Republic offices, for another.  
  
His coat already showed a fine covering of dust, plumes of it exploding into the air as he brushed off his arms. He'd forgotten how dry New York could be.  
  
"So where do you want to start," Taylor… Danny asked, ducking inside the front doors, holding them wide for Martin to follow.  
  
Martin blinked at the absence of security before following Danny inside.  
  
"Progress reports," Martin answered automatically, already frowning at the lack of facilities. It was no wonder he'd been called in from Washington.  
  
The main hall branched off in three directions, one leading to an iron staircase that curled up to the floors above while the others opened into rooms that were distinct mirrors of each other; large, open spaces filled with desks and agents, chalkboards and charts, long forgotten maps and machines Martin couldn't identify.  
  
The building itself was a shadow of its former glory, wallpaper peeling and floors dull with scuff marks and the dust that seemed to permeate every corner of the city. Black soot from the stoves coated nearly every surface, forming small triangles above the lanterns that hung at even intervals on each of the walls.  
  
"You got a couple of months?" Danny questioned in response to Martin's request, the comment meant to be amusing. Martin didn't laugh.  
  
"The abridged version will do," he replied, following Danny into one of the rooms, eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the chaotic energy that seemed to hang in the air. At least people seemed to be working.  
  
He hadn't initially wanted this assignment. Had turned it down, in fact. That was, until his father had paid him a visit. There had been no explanation. No insistence. No pleading or demand. Just three simple words, _knowledge is power_ , and Martin had agreed.  
  
He thought perhaps it was because so many people had given up on past knowledge. Resigned themselves to life as it was, pushing aside their history and the vision their ancestors had once achieved because it was easier. Simpler. Life, for him, was hardly simple.  
  
"The abridged version," Danny began, distracting Martin from his thoughts. "I've got over a hundred agents out on the street. We're following up on leads, interviewing potential suspects, potential witnesses: the usual," he explained.  
  
"I sense there's something more," Martin prompted, "otherwise I wouldn't be here."  
  
It was unsettling to think he'd come all this way for nothing.  
  
"Smart, I like that," Danny replied with a smirk, stopping mid-step and twisting into Martin's space, his smirk fading.  
  
Martin found himself strangely disappointed. Horror replaced the emotion almost immediately; he wasn't used to being distracted by attractive colleagues and didn't like the fact that he was missing the smile of a man he barely knew. Obviously his recent lack of companionship was disrupting his sense of professionalism. Perhaps a trip to the whore district was in order.  
  
"We think there was someone on the inside. A doctor by the name of Sergei's been missing since her disappearance. Now, what I want to know is exactly who this girl is. Why Washington felt the need to send a high ranking official like yourself down here to find her," Danny practically demanded, the light in his eyes an equal blend of curiosity concerning the girl and resentment at Martin's presence.  
  
Martin smiled grimly before answering. "She's the key," he said, letting his smile fade before brushing past Danny, turning around and heading back the way they'd come.  
  
"Exactly where are you going?" Danny called after him and without even looking Martin could swear he was grinning again.  
  
"To find this doctor of yours," Martin answered over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.  
  
He heard Danny curse, then footsteps as Danny jogged to catch up.  
  
~*~  
  
Martin understood now why 'finding him' wasn't exactly going to be an easy thing to do. Sergei had apparently gone underground. According to Danny, it had been expected; most people who were wanted by the authorities took refuge in the last lawless place in the Republic.  
  
Martin sighed and pulled at his coat.  
  
It was hot underground. Damp and sticky, despite the crispness of the air that trickled down through the ventilation shafts. Residents of the sub-city were hardly helpful, shying away at the first sight of clothed agents. Martin they ignored. The men with guns, however, they ran from.  
  
"This is ridiculous. Do we really need this escort?" Martin all but demanded, nodding over his shoulder to the six agents Danny had insisted on bringing, his frustration mounting when he realized Danny was laughing at him.  
  
"Sorry. It's just, you bureaucrats, you're all the same. You think you can just waltz in here and get the job done. Like we haven't been trying. Like people are just going to point us in the right direction. Hell, half the people down here would as soon shoot us as look at us," Danny explained, still smirking, but there was anger in his eyes, open hostility that made Martin clear his throat and step back before he could catch himself.  
  
Squaring his shoulders, Martin forced himself to move forward, back into Danny's space before arching an eyebrow. Danny didn't back down, instead merely smiling like this was the most amusement he'd had in days.  
  
Martin was beginning to find the trait somewhat annoying. It didn't help that they'd been underground for hours. Searching through dark, dank corridors, former subway tunnels and the very thought of trains traveling beneath the earth's surface still made Martin uncomfortable.  
  
Now there was nothing but refuse, hastily constructed tent cities at each juncture, steel drums pushed against each wall, some already burning as night descended on the city.  
  
The tunnels stretched for miles, countless hundreds of thousands of people living a life of squalor and, if their doctor was down here, it could take weeks to find him. Months even. By then the girl would be gone.  
  
"Forget it. Let's grab some dinner, come back tomorrow in plain clothes," Danny finally said, shaking his head like Martin was trying his patience and he still hadn't decided what to do about it. "You like Sushi?" he asked, already leading the way to the nearest ramp.  
  
"No," Martin answered, shivering slightly as he passed under a vent, the night air cool and dry.  
  
"Sushi it is," Danny answered, glancing over his shoulder to offer Martin yet another grin.  
  
~*~  
  
As it turned out, Danny wasn't a complete asshole. They ended up in the Asia quarters, at a small, out of the way place that served real Chinese food. At least, Danny called it real. Having never actually been to Mainland China, Martin wouldn't know.  
  
Danny was staring at him again, something he'd taken to doing throughout the better part of the meal. It was disturbing. Unsettling.  
  
"What?" he asked, dropping his chopsticks onto his empty plate. Real or not, it had been good. Better than anything he'd eaten in days, in fact.  
  
"How you'd end up with this job, Martin?" Danny asked, twirling long, paper-thin noodles onto one chopstick before bringing it to his mouth.  
  
Martin watched the movement with fascination, almost missing the use of his first name.  
  
"Are you always like this?" he asked instead of answering, shifting in his seat and wondering if his inn came complete with perk services.  
  
"Most of the time, yeah," Danny answered, obviously still waiting for Martin's reply, grinning like he was actually enjoying how flustered Martin was becoming, his chopstick frozen midway to his mouth.  
  
"Family business," Martin answered after a moment, cringing to think of Danny connecting his name to his father.  
  
It was ridiculous, he knew, because he was used to people assuming his father's connections had earned him his rank. In a way, they probably had, but that didn't mean Martin didn't work hard, giving everything he had to get to where he was. Most of the time he didn't care what people thought. Danny, however, seemed to be weighing him, judging him, and Martin couldn't say he was enjoying it.  
  
"Figures," Danny snorted, finally shoving the small ball of noodles into his mouth, chewing loudly. Martin cringed.  
  
"What's your story?" he heard himself ask, not really wanting to know Danny's tale, and yet wanting anything that directed the attention off of him. "Wait, let me guess. Poor street kid, worked his way up from the bottom, right?" he finished.  
  
Danny didn't answer, instead winking and pointing a finger like Martin had figured him out. There was something in his eyes that spoke of lingering amusement, though. He wondered if perhaps Danny was just permanently amused. If the look followed him everywhere.  
  
It was a bad train of thought to be thinking, though, because Martin found himself caught up, staring into Danny's eyes --deep, dark, rather nice eyes if he did say so himself-- and, if anything, Danny's amusement increased under the scrutiny.  
  
"It's late. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, so I suggest we get some rest," Martin finally said, breaking eye contact with a shiver, forcing himself to reach into his pocket and pull out a handful of coins just to avoid glancing back up.  
  
By the time he did look up, Danny was already standing, shrugging into his overcoat --a deep blue that seemed the fashion in New York-- his own money carefully piled on the table next to his empty plate.  
  
"The driver will take you to your inn," Danny told him once they were outside, stopping to give Martin one final measured look, eyes considering in a way that made Martin want to squirm under their scrutiny. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so unhinged.  
  
Danny finally broke eye contact, nodding to the carriage that Martin had managed to forget about during their meal, chuckling just under his breath before walking away. Martin shuddered before crossing the street, pausing only long enough to call over his shoulder.  
  
"Six o'clock. Don't be late, Taylor."  
  
~*~  
  
As it turned out, his inn did offer perk services. Female perk services, offered at a discount for a man of his standing. Martin had laughed before declining: a woman was not what he needed tonight.  
  
He was used to Washington. Used to the clubs he frequented. The houses he visited. Never anything long term, of course; his life was complicated enough without adding a relationship to the mix. Paid men, in all shapes and sizes, each enjoyable in their own way, each lasting only so long as his coin did.  
  
It was simpler that way, or so he told himself. Easy. Tonight the thought seemed bleak, pathetic in his mind. Perhaps it was the room's bed, too large by far for only one, or perhaps it was the sheets, cold and icy against his skin, or perhaps this was the loneliness that people spoke of whenever they mentioned New York.  
  
He told himself that tomorrow they would make progress. Tomorrow there would be leads, each one bringing them closer to finding this Sergei Danny had spoken of. And if he truly did know where they could find the girl, well, then Martin's job would be done and he could go home. Home to his houses and his clubs and the men that worked in them.  
  
Home, away from Danny Taylor and his amused, weighing eyes.  
  
It was uneasy rest that finally found Martin, the sky already hours dark.  
  
~*~  
  
He woke long before the sun, managing to wash, dress and leave before the carriage that had dropped him off could return to retrieve him. Besides, the central Republic offices weren't far and walking would do him some good.  
  
Tinges of pink had begun to lighten the sky by the time he made it across town, stomping the mud and manure off his boots before heading indoors. Surprisingly --or perhaps he'd been expecting it; Martin still hadn't figured out what sort of man this Taylor was-- Danny was already inside. Bent over one of the long tables that were set up at the back of the room Martin had toured the day before, maps spread out before him, pins marking several locations.  
  
"Good morning," Martin said, joining Danny at the table, pointing to the heaviest concentration of pins that circled the Chelsea museum. "Sightings?" he asked.  
  
"Girls matching her description, yeah. But she's a twelve year-old kid and six local schools were on field trips in the region yesterday, so chances are it wasn't her," Danny answered, reaching for the tin cup that sat atop a pile of reports. Underneath, a ring of coffee marred the white of the paper.  
  
"Any more of that?" Martin asked, stomach rumbling embarrassingly. In his haste to leave, he'd forgotten completely about breakfast. Coffee would do.  
  
"In the back. There's bread too, if you're hungry," Danny answered, fighting not to laugh. Martin purposely ignored him.  
  
The coffee was weaker than he was used to, almost grey in colour. It was hot, though, and more importantly, drinkable. There was indeed bread, half a loaf and mostly stale. Martin ripped off a chunk and wandered back to where Danny was still bent over maps, crumbs already decorating the front of his shirt.  
  
"Are we going to at least check it out?" he asked around a mouthful of bread.  
  
"Unless you have a better plan, yeah," Danny answered, straightening, turning to face Martin, eyes rolling somewhat dramatically as he took in the sight of Martin's crumb covered chest.  
  
"I'm not going to be able to take you anywhere, am I?" he teased. Teased and Martin was so shocked that he couldn't do anything but stare as Danny reached forward, brushing aside the crumbs.  
  
In college, he'd actually dated for some time. A boy by the name of Elliot, but never, not once in the three years they'd courted, had Elliot displayed such blatant public affection. For a while, he'd even thought he might someday marry Elliot.  
  
Martin blinked, and pulled back as though burnt, despite the fact that Danny was already halfway across the room, well on his way out the door. Danny paused at the entrance way, turning to call over his shoulder.  
  
"How are you for riding?" he asked, grinning again and the bread in Martin's mouth turned to ash.  
  
~*~  
  
Somehow, despite the shortness of the trip to the Chelsea museum, Martin had gained the upper hand. It helped that Danny wasn't nearly as comfortable on a horse as he was with pretty much everything else Martin had seen him do. Twice now the animal had become spooked, leaving Danny to fight with the reins while Martin chuckled, easily navigating his tall mare with his knees.  
  
"You're frightening her more," he said, flexing his left thigh to turn his horse, clicking her forward until he was once again at Danny's side.  
  
"I know what I'm doing," Danny answered, frustration and something Martin swore was embarrassment bleeding into his tone.  
  
"Obviously," Martin answered, turning back and trotting ahead, leaving Danny to curse at his horse. It was nice to find at least one weakness in his newfound partner.  
  
The Chelsea museum occupied nearly ten city blocks. It was all that remained of what was once Manhattan; quaint buildings arching into the sky, trees lining the sidewalks, there was even green grass growing wherever space would permit. Martin tried not to gape.  
  
This was the New York he'd seen with his father. The New York his father talked about when he told tales of his youth. Tales of another generation. Shops spilled out onto the street, their contents perfectly preserved over the years, allowing a glimpse into the past. Martin dismounted.  
  
Their papers got them through the gates of the fence that circled the perimeter. Martin had heard they had trolley trains inside, running on tracks that crisscrossed every street in the museum. Those were pulled by horse teams and Martin couldn't help but wonder why they'd been forced to leave their own mounts stabled outside.  
  
"I haven't been here in years," Danny announced and Martin was glad to find he wasn't the only one staring in wonder. Automobiles actually lined the streets, shimmering steel rainbows making everything else dull by comparison.  
  
"This is a first," Martin replied, glancing over in time to catch Danny's delighted smile.  
  
The mood didn't last long, the giggling of a small girl struggling to escape her father's grasp reminding them of the task at hand.  
  
"I'll check in with registration, see if anyone from those schools matches our girl's description," Danny said, already walking away, leaving Martin to absorb the last remaining evidence of the old world.  
  
~*~  
  
As it turned out, six girls matched Abby's description. So far, they'd tracked down five. None a match.  
  
"This isn't right. She's not going to enrol in a school. Hell, I doubt she even knows what's going on. Whoever took her out didn't do it for her," Martin commented, following Danny up a set of stairs into the fourth school on their list.  
  
"You know, Martin, if you told me something about this girl, it might help the investigation," Danny replied, still climbing.  
  
It was the third time today he'd used Martin's first name. After the first, Martin had politely reminded him that he preferred Fitzgerald. Unfortunately, that seemed to open a floodgate and now Danny was taking every available opportunity to address Martin by his given name. The man had no shame.  
  
"You know that information's classified, Taylor," Martin answered, drawing out Danny's family name to make a point. Danny merely shrugged and pushed his way past the heavy wood doors of the school.  
  
Inside, the halls were empty, the building in no better repair than the central Republic offices downtown. Martin wondered if perhaps all of New York was like this.  
  
Washington was mostly rebuilt. They'd even begun construction on a fourteen story building, the tallest in the Republic. It was said that, once, buildings stretched up into the sky, at times touching the clouds. Martin wasn't entirely sure he believed those stories.  
  
He let Danny do the talking, few residents wanting to talk to an outsider. He didn't blame them. In short order they identified their sixth girl. Amanda. Almost a perfect match, except for height and the fact that her eyes were green, not grey.  
  
He left while Danny was in the middle of apologizing for the inconvenience, feeling more frustrated than he had in days. Perhaps he'd been wrong, perhaps it wasn't the ineptitude of the New York office that was causing delays. Maybe the people who had taken Abby really had vanished, the girl along with them.  
  
It would help if he knew anything about them, but aside from several descriptions and a few hastily drawn sketches, there wasn't much to go on. The girl's mother had been the first suspect, but she was located and unaware of her daughter's disappearance. She still laboured under the assumption that her daughter was troubled, sent to a place meant to save her.  
  
The girl's father was years dead, something the Republic had made sure of long before choosing the girl. With no other family, no friends, that left only two options. Another government, or someone hoping to profit off the information stored in Abby's head. Either scenario was equally troubling.  
  
"I'm not sure how you boys do it in Washington, but here in New York, we tend to watch each other's backs," Danny commented, his presence sudden and Martin jumped before he could stop himself. Danny had the nerve to chuckle.  
  
"You're not my partner, Taylor, and I don't much like having to wait around for pleasantries," Martin answered, not waiting for a reply before heading back down the steps, toward their mounts, both tethered to the gates of the school.  
  
"Pleasantries are the essence of life," Danny replied, alternating between eyeing his horse with suspicion and eyeing Martin with appreciation.  
  
Martin rolled his eyes, suddenly looking forward to watching Danny attempt to ride back.  
  
~*~  
  
It seemed fitting somehow that they ended the day back underground, this time without an escort. Martin had been forced to shed his grey overcoat --although he was fairly certain few outside of the Republic's core would know its meaning-- donning a simply blue coat instead, much like the one Danny had worn the day before.  
  
Despite their efforts to blend in, people still shied away, recognizing two men who obviously didn't belong. Their finer clothes certainly didn't help, nor their obvious cleanliness.  
  
"Ma'am, I just want to ask you some question," Danny was saying to a woman who hadn't been fast enough to drift away unnoticed.  
  
She was middle aged, face worn and gaunt, dark circles beneath her eyes making her appear older than Martin suspected she was. Veins protruding from her neck told Martin she was a Mal addict.  
  
"I have a sketch here, of a young girl we're trying to help. I just need to know if you recognize her," Danny continued, either oblivious red spider veins webbing the woman's eyes, or ignoring them.  
  
"Danny."  
  
Danny ignored him, intent on the woman still refusing to speak two words. Martin doubted she could.  
  
"Danny," he tried again and this time Danny turned, eyes flashing with irritation.  
  
"I don't think she understands. I don't think she's capable of understanding. Hell, look at her," Martin all but shouted, pointing to the woman who was now twitching, body almost vibrating. Danny shook his head.  
  
"Thanks for you time, Ma'am," he said, finally letting Martin lead them away, back out to the main passageway.  
  
"Again with the pleasantries," Martin commented as they rounded the corner, laughing softly to himself.  
  
"Just because she's an addict, doesn't mean she's not a person. Hell, it's our fault she's like that anyway," Danny replied, shaking his head.  
  
Martin didn't answer. Danny was right, after all. The government had first introduced Mal, a chemical suppressant that was supposed to improve the welfare of citizens after the Great War. A drug that, by all intentions, was supposed to protect people. Keep them from getting sick. Keep them from giving in to the bleakness that had claimed more lives than even the initial war.  
  
In the end, it had only proven addictive, destructive like every other drug before it. The only difference was the Republic still authorized its use. Still distributed it alongside food coins and water purification tablets.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Martin eventually said, suddenly claustrophobic, the space seeming smaller than it had before.  
  
Danny merely nodded.  
  
~*~  
  
The evening meal consisted of Cora rations, which they ate on the office floor, surrounded by reports from Danny's agents on the street. The Cora was dry, tasteless and twice Martin had almost choked on a piece he was trying to swallow. He made a mental note to insist they not work through the evening meal again.  
  
Danny seemed to be having no problems, alternating between chewing on his Cora and riffling through the papers spread out in an arch around him.  
  
"Here's something. There's a new Healer in the Queensborough district. Sounds like something a former doctor might end up doing, don't you think?" Danny asked, glancing up long enough to give Martin a quizzical look.  
  
"Maybe," Martin responded.  
  
It was a possibility, however slim, and at this point, Martin was willing to investigate any possibility they came across.  
  
"How about this," he began, pausing to clear his throat before continuing. "Reports indicate there were at least three people involved in Abby's abduction. Someone bought train tickets for three adults and one child about twelve hours later."  
  
"Where?" Danny asked.  
  
"Boston colony," Martin answered, grinning somewhat triumphantly at the impressed expression on Danny's face.  
  
The grin faded just as quickly. Once again he'd found himself enjoying Danny's company. Enjoying how smoothly they worked together. How well they bounced ideas off one another. It almost felt as though they'd been working together for years rather than a few short days. Martin couldn't remember the last time he'd bonded with anyone. Certainly not the last time he'd actually found himself liking a colleague.  
  
"I'll have some men look into it. See if it's worth pursuing," Danny told him, hiding a yawn behind his hand and it wasn't until then that Martin realized just how late it was getting.  
  
"We should call it a night, get some sleep. Maybe by morning we'll have some answers," Martin suggested, earning a genuine smile and a nod. Apparently he wasn't the only one enjoying their growing partnership.  
  
He chose not to question that too closely, instead pushing himself up off the floor, hesitating a moment before offering Danny his hand. Unsurprisingly, Danny took it, allowing Martin to pull him to his feet.  
  
"I guess I should…" Martin all but stammered, feeling himself flush as he dropped Danny's hand, not bothering to finish the statement before turning to go.  
  
"Martin," Danny called out, stopping Martin midway to the door. "You're an all right guy, for a Seeker," he said and Martin closed his eyes, thankful that he hadn't turned around.  
  
~*~  
  
He'd chosen the place for its nondescript sign. There were dozens on this street, maybe even hundreds in the entire district. This house, though, looked almost like an inn; tidy and well kept, clean and light spilled out from each of the windows. It was nothing like the houses he frequented in Washington.  
  
Inside, the floor was well worn, countless men paying countless visits and the woman who greeted him was old enough to be his mother. Her smile was friendly, though, welcoming and for some reason it put Martin at ease.  
  
It was strange, in a sense, because he'd never felt uneasy doing this. Not once in all the years he'd been coming to places like this. Here, in New York, he felt uncertain, terrified like he had the first time. He still couldn't pinpoint what was causing his apprehension.  
  
"Hello, darling," the woman drawled, southern accent thick and Martin almost laughed at the cliché. "Male or female?" she asked, pulling out a cloth bound book that she would use to register his visit.  
  
"Male," he answered. "Latino, if possible," he added as an afterthought. Danny's influence, no doubt.  
  
"I have three, but I think you'll like Jose, he's fairly fresh," she commented, sliding the book across to him. Martin took his time filling in his information.  
  
"Upstairs, third door on the right," the woman told him, already tucking Martin's money into a pocket sewn into the bosom of her dress.  
  
Jose, as it turned out, was nothing like Danny. Tall and slender, but younger, darker, eyes dull and expressionless. He strode across the room, intent marking each footstep. His movements lacked grace. His eyes warmth.  
  
Martin excused himself and left, not bothering to demand a refund on his way out the door.  
  
~*~  
  
Exhausted from a night of broken sleep, Martin yawned as the carriage swayed beneath him, immediately regretting the action when they ran over a large pothole, the carriage lurching, causing him to collide with bench beneath him, his jaw snapping shut somewhat painfully.  
  
He still didn't know what had possessed him last night. Why he went out seeking physical affection. Why he'd hoped to pretend the anonymous stranger was the man likely waiting for him at the central office.  
  
He'd spent the better part of the night telling himself he was just lonely. Telling himself that Danny was an attractive man and it was only natural to want to act on that attraction. The problem was he was a Fitzgerald, trained to avoid unnecessary distractions. Trained to put his job ahead of everything else, including physical desire.  
  
His ability to do just that was what made him a good Seeker. Over the years, he'd sought out, found or captured more individuals than he could count. He'd coordinated with numerous agencies, worked with numerous officials. Never, not once in all that time had he let himself become distracted by a pair of pretty eyes.  
  
Absently, Martin fingered the three small pins on his collar. He'd earned the third shortly after his thirtieth birthday. Few had achieved rank so young. There was great hope for him in Washington. Hope for a career that some whispered might even including the reclaiming of lands lost after the war. Certainly not a career that would permit for the luxuries of a relationship.  
  
The sudden stopping of the carriage broke Martin from his thoughts, the jolt sending him sprawling onto the dirt covered floor of the coach, his head hitting the bench behind him before he finally settled on the ground. Martin cursed and pulled himself up, mumbling still another curse before all but throwing himself out of the carriage. Next time, he vowed, he would walk.  
  
As luck would have it, Danny happened to be present to watch his less than graceful exit. Standing at the top of the steps, speaking to one of his agents, Danny watched the entire thing out of the corner of his eye, chuckling softly as Martin attempted to straighten his now rumbled clothes.  
  
"Rough morning?" he asked, grinning a second time when Martin glared at him. "Well, at least there's good news," he continued, following Martin inside, dismissing the agent at his side.  
  
"Good news would be a nice change. So would coffee," Martin answered, heading into the back room to where the coffee kettle was keeping warm over one of the stoves.  
  
Danny followed him, still chuckling under his breath while Martin poured himself a cup, sighing heavily at the first sip.  
  
"So what's the good news?" he asked, clutching the cup to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him standing.  
  
"Our Healer matches the description of a certain doctor we're looking for," Danny replied, smiling brightly, pride shining in his eyes.  
  
Martin tried not to gaze.  
  
Someone had once told him that love was an unhealthy addiction, worse even than Mal, and Martin didn't doubt it. Not that he was falling in love, but the very thought terrified him. The very idea terrified him. Wanting was bad enough.  
  
"Let's go," Martin said, setting his unfinished coffee down on table next to the stove, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but trapped in that small room with Danny Taylor.  
  
~*~  
  
"Where's the girl?" Danny asked, and, oh, he was good at this.  
  
Too good, in fact. So good that so far Martin hadn't done anything aside from stand back and watch. He supposed his silence added something; arms crossed across his chest, stare blank and level and every time Sergei glanced in his direction --for help or assurance, Martin wasn't certain-- he immediately tore his gaze away, turning his attention back to the man currently interrogating him.  
  
"You must understand, I…"  
  
"Oh I understand. How much did they pay you?" Danny continued, leaning into the doctor's space and Martin swallowed in spite of himself.  
  
Danny, apparently, could be quite intimidating when the occasion demanded it. Martin was only marginally horrified that he was enjoying the display.  
  
"No, it wasn't…"  
  
"Wasn't?" Danny prompted, fingers curling around the arm's of the chair Sergei sat in.  
  
"They wanted to save her. She would have died, otherwise," Sergei answered, glancing once again in Martin's direction, eyes pleading.  
  
Martin had heard enough. One of the things he was trained to do was read people, know when they were lying, know when they were telling the truth. Sergei was telling the truth. At least, what he thought was the truth and regardless of how long they continued their interrogation, he would never believe otherwise.  
  
"Where?" Danny whispered this time, easing back and Sergei sagged with relief.  
  
"I don't know. They didn't tell me. The woman, the one who first came to me, she said Abby had a sister," Sergei explained, almost eager now, perhaps knowing they would leave soon.  
  
Martin blinked at the words, catching Danny's eye before turning to the door, walking out despite the act breaching at least a dozen sets of procedure.  
  
A moment later the door opened, Danny looking furious as he shut it behind him before stalking across the small hall outside Sergei's apartment to press himself almost against Martin's chest.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, face flushed with anger and Martin swallowed a second time.  
  
"He doesn't know anything," Martin answered, not backing away, telling himself it had nothing to do with enjoying the feel of Danny's heat.  
  
"How the hell do you know that?" Danny asked, but uncertainty flashed in his eyes. Seekers had their reputations.  
  
"I just do," Martin answered, barely managing not to groan in frustration when Danny backed off.  
  
Danny ran a shaking hand through his hair before resuming eye contact. "So where do we look?" he asked, pent up energy rolling off of him in waves.  
  
"California," Martin answered, ignoring Danny's puzzled look and turning away, heading back down the hall and out onto the street.  
  
~*~  
  
He was beginning to like traveling by train. There was something almost hypnotic about the rocking of the car. Something almost comforting about the occasional screech of the train's whistle. It helped that they'd booked a private car.  
  
"Explain this again," Danny said, for what was perhaps the third time since they'd first left Sergei's apartment.  
  
"She has a sister. We discounted her, because as far as we knew, she didn't know of Abby's existence. We've been keeping track of her, though, and believe she's inside the San Diego colony," Martin explained yet again, ignoring the doubtful expression on Danny's face.  
  
The private car was less than spacious, especially with their bunks unfolded, enough space for a single man to walk, barely, all that remained between them. The journey would last seven days. Seven days trapped inside the small space with only Danny for company.  
  
Martin wasn't certain whether to thank his luck or curse it.  
  
In truth, he wasn't sure why Danny had insisted on coming. This was outside of his jurisdiction, but beyond that, California lay outside the Republic, a wild place that most sane men knew well enough to stay clear of. Most men would have abandoned Martin to his own devices upon learning where he was headed.  
  
"So this sister…" Danny began, cutting off at a wave of Martin's hand.  
  
There were some things Danny shouldn't know. Some things Martin was forbidden to speak on, but at the very least Danny deserved a part explanation. California was not a place Martin wanted to travel to alone.  
  
"The sister's name is Nora. She was eight when her mother sold her to the Chinese: she, the mother, was a Mal addict and government rations weren't enough," Martin explained, waiting for Danny's nod before continuing. "She'd been out of contact for almost four years when Abby was born," he finished, hoping Danny wouldn't question how Martin had come by the information.  
  
Knowing even the most remote details of any of the Republic's projects was part of his job. Sharing those details could cost him that job.  
  
"That's it? That's all you're going to give me?" Danny asked, suddenly looking like he was regretting his decision to follow Martin halfway across the continent.  
  
"Look, I know you want details, but it's…"  
  
"Yeah, I know, it's confidential. Classified. Not something someone like me needs to know, right?" Danny interrupted, pushing himself off his bunk, stalking toward the door, a feat that impressed Martin given the confines of the car.  
  
Martin didn't try to stop him, instead waiting until Danny slid the door shut behind him before putting his head in his hands, sighing wearily at what was about to become a rather tense journey.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days and Martin was starting to get a little stir crazy. It didn't help that Danny was avoiding him. They ate alone. Spent their days apart. In fact, the only time Martin even saw Danny was when he woke in the middle of the night to find Danny in his bunk. Danny usually waited until Martin was well asleep before seeking his bed.  
  
He knew it was a simple thing to solve. All it would take was an honest explanation, something he wouldn't give even his father if his father demanded it. Seekers guarded their secrets close. They guarded the secrets of the Republic even closer.  
  
Under most circumstances, Martin probably wouldn't have cared. He would have done his job, ignoring the slightly hurt looks that Danny managed to shoot in his direction whenever they passed each other in the hall. For some reason, though, this wasn't most circumstances, and for the first time in Martin's life he found himself tempted to breach protocol just to ease the frosty silence that had come between him and Danny.  
  
For the first time in his life, something had become more important than his job.  
  
He alternated by laughing at the though and being horrified by it. The truth was he genuinely liked Danny. Not just because Danny was an attractive man that Martin was seriously starting to consider taking to bed. And not just because Danny was a capable agent, someone who'd likely impressed even Martin's own boss. And not just because Danny was easy to be with. He just liked Danny.  
  
Which was perhaps the reason he found himself seeking Danny out, moving from car to car as the train tried very hard to knock him off his feet. Eventually he found Danny, seated in one of the passenger cars, staring out the window at the changing landscape, lost in thought.  
  
Martin coughed before claiming the vacant seat at Danny's side. Danny ignored him.  
  
"We'll be crossing the border soon," he commented, shifting uncomfortably when Danny still didn't acknowledge his presence. "There's a chance they might not let us across," he continued, ignoring the sudden urge to grab Danny's shoulders and shake him until he said something.  
  
"I…"  
  
"They'll let us across," Danny finally said, still not taking his eyes off the view outside the window.  
  
"The Chinese won't exactly take too well to Republic officials entering one of their territories," Martin countered and this time Danny glanced over, blinking once before answering.  
  
"Maybe I know things you don't," Danny answered, the double meaning behind his words not lost on Martin.  
  
Martin nodded before responding.  
  
"We can't talk here," he said, gesturing to the other passengers before standing, waiting for Danny's nod before heading back to their private car.  
  
The walk back took entirely too little time. Or perhaps entirely too much. Martin couldn't say for sure, except to know that he wasn't ready. Even the very thought was treason.  
  
Danny, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm, following Martin back to their car like he'd known all along Martin would give in. He even managed to make swaying against the rocking of the train look graceful. Even when black coal smoke seeped in through the windows, choking Martin with its harshness, Danny maintained a calm sense of dignity.  
  
It did nothing to ease Martin's apprehension.  
  
The click of the door sliding shut behind him was enough to set Martin's heart racing. Enough to weaken his knees and Martin sank onto his bunk, tucking his legs underneath to make room for Danny.  
  
Danny chose the spot directly across from him, their knees touching and Martin swallowed before speaking.  
  
"Abby was chosen because she was exceptional. Intelligent, capable of solving even the most difficult of problems, despite the limitations of her age," Martin began.  
  
Records indicate she'd been two. Any older and the procedure wouldn't have worked. Any younger and it would have killed her.  
  
"They started with over a thousand potentials, eventually narrowing it down to her. She was taken from her mother and put into the centre she disappeared from," he continued.  
  
"Jesus. Ten years in that place?" Danny asked, but he waved the question off, silently telling Martin to continue.  
  
"I told you she was the key. There's… information, stored inside her head, put there by Republic scientists to keep it safe from the Chinese," Martin finished, knowing the explanation fell short of what Danny wanted. It was all he could give without prompting, though, so if Danny wanted more, he'd have to ask.  
  
For a moment, it appeared as though Danny wasn't planning on bringing up more questions. He sat perfectly still, staring almost blankly, obviously processing the knowledge that the Republic cared less for the child and more for the information she carried. Martin knew the sensation well; he too had had to reconcile that fact before taking on the assignment.  
  
"What kind of information are we talking about here?" Danny finally asked, eyes focusing on Martin's face, stare accusing.  
  
Martin swallowed before answering.  
  
"An alternative fuel source," he replied. "They knew, even before the war, that we were depleting our oil reserves. It had become the former States highest priority. They figured it out, but before they could do anything, the Chinese attacked. Every resource went to fighting the war until eventually everything collapsed. A few years later, once the Republic had formed, the Chinese found out about it. To keep it out of their hands, they hid the information in the one place they could be sure the Chinese wouldn't look," he explained.  
  
A look of understanding, of horror, passed across Danny's face, vanishing so quickly that Martin could almost pretend it hadn't existed. It had, though, and Martin nodding at Danny's wordless question.  
  
"You'd actually do that. Retrieve a girl they're going to kill just to get their information?" Danny finally asked, staring at Martin like he'd never actually seen him before. Like he was someone new and unwanted and Martin's stomach seemed to sink into his bowels.  
  
"You don't get it, do you? If the Chinese figure it out, retrieve the information first, the Republic will fall. New Texas will fall. The Canadian Territories will fall. We're it, Danny. All that stands between them and world domination. They didn't stop because they were happy with what they took. They stopped because wars require energy."  
  
The explanation came out in a rush, Martin's tone angry, fear bleeding through despite his best efforts to bury it. Danny seemed to understand. He nodded, opening his mouth to respond, the words lost as the train screeched to a halt. They'd reached the border.  
  
~*~  
  
This wasn't the first time he'd found himself confined to a cell. Granted, it was the first time he'd allowed himself to fall into enemy hands --however open both governments pretended the borders were, they were still, technically, enemies. It was hardly a surprise, though, because he'd known upon leaving New York that this possibility existed. Technically, they couldn't do anything to him. There were treaties, however fragile, and the death of a high ranking Republic officer would inevitably cause problems.  
  
That didn't mean they couldn't detain him. Keep him locked away until they claimed the girl and the information she possessed for themselves. Once they had her, killing him would once again become an option.  
  
He hadn't seen Danny since they were taken off the train. Hell, for all he knew Danny had escaped and was planning a dramatic, heroic rescue at that very moment. Except there was an equally likely chance that Danny would just abandon him, leave him to rot like the monster Martin was sure Danny assumed him to be.  
  
As soon as the thought surfaced a door was opening, sunlight filling the dank, dark space and Martin blinked, coughing at the sudden freshness of air. When he finally managed to focus again, Danny was standing outside his cell, looking mildly amused and entirely too proud of himself. He said something --in Cantonese of all languages-- to the guard who had followed him in and immediately the guard moved forward, unlocking Martin's cell, sliding the heavy steel grated door open.  
  
Surprise was the least of Martin's reactions.  
  
Suspicion weighed in too, combined with relief and confusion and even open curiosity. It was almost a shame he couldn't find the words to express any of them.  
  
Danny grinned this time, gesturing for Martin to follow him outside, into the late afternoon sun and waiting freedom. Martin waited until they were well away from the processing centre to speak.  
  
"So exactly what do you know?" Martin asked, flashing back to their earlier conversation and Danny's insistence that the Chinese would let them cross.  
  
"I'm sorry, Martin, that information's classified," Danny answered, laughing to himself. Martin chose not to press.  
  
The train they'd been riding on was long since gone, along with most of their belongings and Martin cringed at the loss of his leather travel bag. It had been a gift, from his mother on his eighteenth birthday and losing it pained him in a way he was loath to admit.  
  
"Next train's not for another four weeks," Danny said and Martin cursed under his breath. "Wagon or horseback?" he asked, still smirking and Martin grinned before answering.  
  
"Horseback," he replied. This time Danny cursed.  
  
~*~  
  
Finding the necessary supplies had proved difficult. Finding two horses near impossible. In the end, it had taken most of their coin, along with the pocket watch his father had given him upon earning his third rank.  
  
There was little choice, though, the impending trek long and difficult. It didn't help that they'd be forced to avoid settlements --Danny's influence, whatever it was, unlikely to help in the more remote communities. Crossing the mountains was another story altogether, something Martin wasn't looking forward to and he almost wished they'd waited for the next train.  
  
Waiting would have brought questions, though, and questions would inevitably lead to more delays. They were already short on time.  
  
If they'd only managed to find their doctor a day earlier, all of this could have been avoided. Trains ran regularly between New York and the Chinese territories, carrying workers and business men on almost a daily basis. The exception, of course, was the time of mourning. A month of inactivity as citizens of the Republic were expected to reflect and remember all that was lost. It was one of the few rules of the Republic that Martin found ridiculous.  
  
It left them with little options, except to make their own way across the twisted, jagged landscape of California. Almost a thousand miles, across deserts and mountain passes. Through forests and wetlands with only what they could fit into the packs tied behind their saddles for supplies.  
  
Martin wasn't entirely sure they'd even make it.  
  
Danny, on the other hand, seemed optimistic, despite his obvious discomfort at having to ride. He talked constantly as they set out, telling Martin of how he'd always longed to see the continent. Martin didn't bother mentioning they could have seen it just as well from the comfort of the train.  
  
~*~  
  
The entire trip took the better part of three weeks. Three weeks and by the time the San Diego colony finally appeared on the horizon, Martin was starting to regret his decision to ride. A wagon had to have been better. It had to have been.  
  
At least Danny's riding skills had improved somewhat over the weeks. The first few days had been the worst, Danny constantly cursing, complaining at every available moment about the untrustworthiness of horses. By the sixth day he'd even agreed with Martin that perhaps an alternative fuel source was necessary. Maybe even enough to warrant the death of a small girl.  
  
Martin knew that last part wasn't true --he himself cringed to think of it on more than one occasions, telling himself that he wasn't seeking her out for the information itself, but rather to keep others from hurting her. He doubted any other government would be gentle in retrieving what lay stored in her brain. The Republic, at least, would make it painless.  
  
For the most part, he tried not to think about it. The topic never came up, even on nights when they found themselves lost for what to say. On those nights they'd merely leaned back, stared up at the stars and tried to comprehend just how infinite the universe was.  
  
The conversations they did have were pleasant, Danny telling Martin of his life in New York, Martin sharing what he could of his in Washington. By the end of the three weeks, Martin was actually starting to think of Danny as a friend.  
  
None of it dampened his attraction, though, his nights spent shifting uncomfortably on the rocky ground, alternating between wanting to crawl into Danny's blankets and terrified of what would happen if he tried.  
  
Danny still teased, and flirted, and called Martin by his given name, but sometimes, Danny stared at him like he was expecting the worst. Like at any given moment Martin was going to give in to his sense of duty and maybe even kill Danny for what he knew. In short, Danny didn't trust him.  
  
That alone was the reason Martin hadn't said anything. Hadn't tried anything.  
  
They rode somewhat unceremoniously into the San Diego compound, squat buildings suddenly springing up around them, the residence pausing in their work to stare curiously at two riders, two strangers. Their gazes never lingered past the next building, falling away as soon as they had passed.  
  
San Diego sat along the coast, her great wharfs overflowing with trade ships and passengers boats. People came and went in steady streams, hurrying to unknown destinations beneath the peaked white sails that carried the ships between ports. The locals were more than used to strangers.  
  
"I didn't realize it would be so big," Danny said beside him, obviously overwhelmed by his first sight of the colony.  
  
There were several colonies, spread up and down the western coastline, but San Diego was one of the largest. A transfer point, for Chinese settlers coming across in large, ocean fairing sail-ships. The journey took months and many wanted only to rest on dry land after completing it, making San Diego a natural place to settle. As a result, it had grown, reviling even New York in size and population.  
  
"Which is probably why we should start looking sooner rather than later," Martin replied, heading deeper into the heart of the city, trusting Danny to follow.  
  
Danny didn't comment, his expression torn as he reached Martin's side. It had become a common sight, Danny increasingly wondering if the trip was even necessary. If what they were doing was right. If what had been done was right.  
  
Martin knew only because he'd asked himself the same questions before leaving Washington. On some days, he still found himself questioning, wondering if it might not be better to just let the girl slip away unnoticed.  
  
~*~  
  
The inn they'd chosen --although Martin wasn't entirely certain they were even called inns here, his limited knowledge of Cantonese translating the sign into boarding house, not inn-- sat near the centre of the city. It was clean, well kept and seemed a central point to begin their search. That, however, was not why Martin chose it. It was the sixth place they'd tried and the only one not full to the rafters. The last place had offered to let them sleep with their horses.  
  
Even then they were forced to share a room --something Martin wasn't entirely too upset about-- two small cots occupying either corner, a dresser standing between them and a small stool the sum contents of the space.  
  
It was warmer on the coast, almost hot and Martin had abandoned his blue overcoat. The grey one, complete with his pins, was likely still stashed under his bunk on the train. Martin doubted he'd ever see it again.  
  
Danny was already waiting for him downstairs by the time Martin had washed and brushed off the only clothes he now owned. Their limited coin hadn't allowed for the luxury of new clothing. He'd found a table near the door, crammed between dozens of other tables, so little space between them that Martin had had to squeeze himself around the outside of the room to claim the chair Danny had saved for him.  
  
"I ordered us stew," Danny said as Martin joined him, mumbling apologies over his shoulder to the man he'd jostled in the process.  
  
"It's going to have fish in it, isn't it?" Martin asked, the question meant to be rhetorical, but Danny answered all the same.  
  
"So not just Sushi, huh," he said, laughing softly. Martin was surprised he'd remembered.  
  
"I don't trust things that live in water," Martin answered, earning a snort and the shake of Danny's head.  
  
Most of the world's water was polluted, so bad in places that Martin had seen men die from eating anything pulled out of them. Perhaps the Chinese had found a way to purify the food; no one around him seemed to be dying.  
  
"We'll pretend it's chicken," Danny suggested after a moment, clearly still amused and Martin decided that Danny was perhaps the most confusing person in the history of time.  
  
One minute he was frowning in Martin's direction, obviously having decided that Martin wasn't worth knowing, the next he was all smiles and not so subtle looks, laughing and joking like Martin was the centre of the universe. It was baffling. Really.  
  
"Let's just eat and get out there," Martin replied as their stew arrived, smelling suspiciously fishy and Martin released a heavy breath before reaching for his spoon.  
  
It was better by far than the Cora rations they'd eaten nightly since leaving the border compound.  
  
~*~  
  
Eerie silence accompanied the setting of the sun, a curfew forcing them off the streets, into their inn. Martin stared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep, but no matter how he tried, it eluded him. They'd been close, even managing to find the camp Nora supposedly worked in. Had it been his choice, he would have ignored the onset of night and gone straight away, but Danny had proven the voice of reason, calmly explaining what would happen if they were caught outside after curfew. Martin made a mental note to ask how Danny knew so much about a place he'd never been.  
  
Beside him, Danny was motionless, either sleeping or locked in the same insomnia Martin found himself battling. He heard rather than saw Danny shift, felt the weight of Danny's eyes and debated feigning sleep.  
  
"What are we doing here, Martin?" Danny asked, sounding uncertain for the first time in the entire time Martin had known him.  
  
"Finding a girl,' Martin answered automatically, unwilling or perhaps unable to elaborate. Lately, he wasn't entirely certain.  
  
"She's with family. She's… just a kid," Danny continued and Martin turned, taking in the slightly lost look in Danny's eyes, his breath vanishing at the sight.  
  
"She's property of the Republic," he eventually answered, hating himself, knowing he wasn't the only one.  
  
~*~  
  
It was one thing to stare at a sketch night after night, memorize it until he could almost draw it free hand straight from memory. It was another entirely to stare at the face of a girl. Into grey eyes that seemed more helpless than important to the future of the free world.  
  
Danny stood several feet behind him, shifting uncomfortably, obviously wanting nothing to do with the moment and Martin wasn't sure why he'd even bothered to come. Martin could have done this alone.  
  
"Martin…" Danny all but whispered behind him, sounding almost panicked and Martin blinked before forcing his gaze away, onto the sister weeping in the corner. She refused to meet his gaze.  
  
"I… It's not her," he said, surprising himself, surprising the sister, surprising Danny.  
  
Only the girl didn't react, seeming oblivious to what was going on around her. Martin wondered how much of her was even there.  
  
"Come on, let's go," he said, earning a grateful look from Nora before forcing himself to turn, pushing past Danny in his eagerness to get outside.  
  
His entire life, gone in the span of a sentence. His job, his career. His family, his friends, his life in Washington, everything he had ever worked for forfeit because he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Danny's eyes as they escorted the girl back to New York.  
  
Sagging, his knees gave way, sending him sprawling onto the hard dirt lined street. He didn't try to push himself back up, instead kneeling there, ignoring the stares of people passing by, ignoring the sudden presence at his shoulder.  
  
"You're a good man, Martin," Danny said, lowering himself down until they were both sitting in the dirt. Martin wanted to weep.  
  
"I can't go back, you know," he said instead, glancing over to take in Danny's smile, the light in Danny's eyes that spoke of pride and honour and a dozen other things Martin had never once seen directed at him. It was almost enough.  
  
"You know, I hear the Canadian Territories are nice this time of year," Danny said, the last thing Martin expected him to say and Martin found himself gaping.  
  
Danny was still watching him, a knowing smile playing across his lips when Martin finally gave in. He leaned forward, pressing their lips together and it wasn't until he was kissing Danny that he realized he hadn't meant to. Hadn't meant for Danny to kiss him back either, but there they were, clothes worn and wrinkled, faces red from weeks in the sun, lives destroyed and all Martin could think was how he should have done this sooner.  
  
Danny was still smiling when he pulled back, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and he nodded, pushing himself up out of the dirt, reaching down and offering Martin his hand.  
  
Martin took it willingly.


End file.
